


Losing at Tetherball

by saltslimes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, also kaci and gnine were really taunting me with ideas, julie gnine and my gremlin hands, now that i have no job i am not professionally validated and thus, this fic brought to you by the following demons:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 13:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16556639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: Prompto can roll with losing his house and surviving off whatever food he gets from work, but one emotional blow topples his coping mechanisms like dominoes.





	Losing at Tetherball

**Author's Note:**

> i have nothing to say for myself except that we have blue wine in canada and its exactly as bad as you think it is
> 
> the knowable and wise kaciart cursed me with the idea, and gnine saw it through to the end

Noctis’ apartment is rent controlled. It’s kind of funny. He mentioned it offhand at one point, just a fact he happened to know. It’s not really funny. It’s just true, but sometimes the truth is laughable. Prompto spent four hours either on hold or trying to talk to the landlord, and the end result was a big fat nothing.

Prompto was there when they slid the last overdue notice through the mail slot. He was sitting with his knees tucked to his chest and his back against the sofa, watching the door. It was only a single sheet of paper and an envelope, but it seemed to make a deafening sound when it hit the floor.

He got his mother’s voicemail again. His dad told him to call his mother, and hung up before he could say anything else. The woman at the bank was very kind, and very sympathetic, and she couldn’t help him at all.

He packed the bare essentials—spare t-shirt, underwear, towel, toothbrush and textbooks (because they were fucking expensive) into his backpack. The landlord was smoking on the front porch. She looked exhausted and annoyed.

“You really couldn’t get ahold of them?” She said. She flicked embers into the dirt. Prompto shook his head. “Should I be calling someone? Social services?”

Prompto felt instantly like his guts were dishtowels running through the wash. He shook his head quickly.

“They’re figuring it out. I’m staying with—family.” The lie fell out so fast it almost rang true for a second. He could be staying with family. It sounded real, sounded solid. In reality, he just went to school and showered in the locker rooms before classes, washed his t-shirt in one of the sinks. He shut off the taps and listened hard every time a voice travelled down the hall.

He had to hold the shirt under the hand-dryer for almost twenty minutes until it was damp enough to put back in his bag. It would be dry by tomorrow, he hoped.

It actually was dry the next day. When he pulled it out of his bag he had a momentary thought of  _ hey, this might actually work _ . Might not be so bad. He might be able to keep it together until his parents came home or got back to him. And they’d be pissed, yeah, who wouldn’t be at their teenager for mismanaging things so bad they got evicted? But they’d also know what to do. 

Sleeping in the school library was a one time thing though. Maybe a once-a-week thing at best, he figured. He was lucky enough that they had 24-hour study space at the school at all, but abusing it was the best way to get caught. So, outside, six days of the week. Minus any day Noctis invited him over.

The smallest mercy was not getting fired. Still working got him basically all the food he could take with him from after a shift. Sure, eventually he figured he’d get sick of stale muffins and reject bagels (and potentially develop scurvy), but in the short-term it was one less thing to think about.

It was finding a place to sleep that proved the biggest challenge. In the end, he hiked back to his neighbourhood and slept on the bench in the park, across from the silent playground. He figured if someone caught him he could just say he’d been out at a friend’s place… maybe pretend to be drunk or something. It made sense for a teenager to be out at night in a residential area. He wouldn’t stand out so much.

For maybe two weeks it worked. It was hard, and it was certainly unpleasant, but it  _ worked _ . He had a system and the system functioned as intended. Sure, he was tired all the time. Sure, his back constantly hurt from sleeping on a bench (he had a newfound empathy for Noct). Sure, some nights there was barely anything left after the shift and he went home hungry. But it was working.

Lunch got awkward. He could wave off Noct’s question a few times. He forgot, or he was cutting back, or he was getting pizza after school. Eventually Noct stopped asking.

Then in the first week of November, everything unravelled. Prompto sort of knew it was a band-aid on a gaping wound, but he had an idea that the stitches would tear one at a time and not all at once. Just another exercise in how-fucking-wrong can one guy be. 

There was a basketball practice that went long on Tuesday night, so showering after school wasn’t an option. And then there was an early morning baseball practice, so Prompto resigned himself to his after school shift unwashed and unpleasant. He actually genuinely liked making coffee, he liked the smell of the cafe and the buzz and the soft jazz the owner always had playing.

He watched a troupe of customers buy the last muffins and he was actually happy, because it was, by all standards, a great day at work. And then it was no longer a day at work. It was after work, and there were no leftovers to take home, and a long fucking walk ahead of him.  _ Good exercise at least _ , he tried to tell himself.

“Won’t be getting… hah. Out of shape any time soon.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. It lit his bones on fire. He swiped up to read a message from Noct.

PRINCE OBNOCTIS: heyy u wanna study chem together?

PRINCE OBNOCTIS: iggy is going to destroy me if my grade goes any lower

PRINCE OBNOCTIS: plus iggy is making that curry u like

It took a few tries even to type out the short response. His fingers were clumsy on the keys, and it occurred to him that he’d been standing by the back door of the cafe longer than he intended.  _ What had he been doing? _ Staring at the dumpster unable to think. The clock on his phone gave him ten pm, but that couldn’t be right because he got off at nine.

PROMPTO: be right over!

He didn’t even feel the cold on his way to Noct’s place. It was already ten. Noctis would probably ask him to sleep over. And if he didn’t… well, he could at least crash on the couch for a bit. Warm up. Try to think of a game plan for the rest of the week. 

Ignis let him in. He wasn’t usually there so late, but Prompto remembered Noctis telling him something about some long meeting after school. The whole apartment smelled of spice and warmth. Distant laundry detergent. Baking soda.

“Dude, you look tired as shit,” Noctis said. Prompto took the seat beside him at the kitchen island and laughed.

“Midterms, right?” he said. Ignis sniffed lightly, replaced the lid on a pot on the stove and vacated the room. Prompto had this sudden feeling behind his eyes, like something pressing sharp and hot. “Let’s crack some books, huh?” He dug out his chem textbook. Ignis came back in and started vacuuming, of all things. Occasionally he’d come over to stir the curry. 

“You seriously can’t remember the hydroxyl groups? Dude, I was counting on one of us knowing them.”

“I mean,” Prompto fumbled for words. Noctis sighed, dropping his chin into his hands.

“You knew them last week. You aced the quiz.” Last week. Prompto wanted to laugh. Last week might as well have been another lifetime. Last week he had shit in working order. Last week his system was functioning as intended.

“Uh, I dunno. I’ve been caught up studying ancient civ.”

“Hang on, I had a good sheet of notes. They’re in my room somewhere.” Noctis slid down from the counter and thudded down the hall. Prompto tried not to let his face drop into the book in front of him. He scrubbed his greasy hair away from his face. It was almost  _ too _ hot in Noct’s place. Ignis set a spoon down beside the stovetop.

“I wonder if we could have a word, Prompto,” he said. His voice was soft, it was a pages-turning-in-an-office voice, a the-reason-for-this-meeting voice. It made Prompto feel like his spine was out of alignment.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything in front of Noctis… I wasn’t going to say anything at all. I understand you must be busy with midterms, however.” He pursed his lips like he was working to phrase whatever he meant to say. Prompto’s hands were cold. His lungs were dipped in wax.

“Noctis is a prince. And those who associate him must accept being held to a higher standard. In attitude, in behavior, in...personal hygiene. You understand.” Ignis looked genuinely uncomfortable. That was was kept Prompto in place, what enabled him to nod slowly, what kept all the ice picks neatly inside his brain while Ignis left the room. While he put his shoes on. On the stairs from Noct’s apartment.

Somehow he got from there to the school. Student ID at the door, and through to the study space, where he dumped his stuff and then he travelled the silent hallway, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the worn terrazzo floors.

He did cry in the showers. The locker rooms stank like bleach and mildew, like soft security. He pressed his face against cold tile and sobbed.

He had three missed calls and two messages when he got dry and checked his phone, and no energy to read them. He went back to the library still damp and read over his chemistry notes until he felt like he could draw all the hydroxyl groups on the test or, barring this, die. Then he put his face down in his arms and the world fell away almost too easily.

[F][F][X][V]

First period was math. Prompto was a lost cause. He just accepted that and let it happen. But on his way to chem he ran into Noctis, who looked… tired. He brushed past Prompto without saying anything.

He spent the first twelve minutes of the test staring idly at the blank margins of the paper. There was some backdrop of panic in his brain, but it was so muted, so deep underwater. More presently, he felt like he was going to puke. Kind of ridiculous, since he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, but it got more pressing as he slogged through the questions.

“If you’re finished you can proceed to study hall,” the teacher announced, when the third student went up to hand in their test. Prompto scribbled in whatever garbage he could think of. A guess is always better than a blank question. Noctis breezed past him, set his paper on the desk and then grabbed his bag and left the room. Prompto watched the door close silently behind him. 

The letters were swimming on the page. He shut his eyes for an indeterminate period of time. When he opened them it was because he was certain he would be sick, and he really, really didn’t want to do it in front of his remaining classmates. 

Words didn’t assemble. He stood up from his desk, the teacher said something from another dimension over, and then he lost command of the situation and his head cracked against the desk. 

He woke up on the floor. All noise was a low hum, indistinguishable like crayons melted into each other. Someone put a hand on his shoulder. He forced himself to sit up. He pushed the hand off of him. Invasive. Not wanted. Not safe. Some part of him was operating on high alert, was giving him a set of commands he neither understood nor knew how to execute.

When he was able to get a handle on himself he was out in the hall following one of his classmates to the nurse’s office.

“That’s one way to get out of a test,” she laughed, and then glanced back at him with mounting concern. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Prompto said. He had a sick surety that whatever was going to happen if he said otherwise would involve nitrile gloves, but as soon as he reached for that thought it slipped free like a tadpole through a wide net.

The nurse told him he could lie down for a while if he wanted to wait for his parents to pick him up, and he poured himself into the bed without a second thought.

When Prompto was a little kid he used to have nightmares. Normal stuff, mostly. His teeth falling out or something chasing after him. There was one nightmare that wasn’t like the others. It didn’t start the same way, it would bleed in from some other dream. He’d be eating lunch with his parents or on some magical adventure and then he’d see these dark spots hit the ground. Black rain. And he’d look up but the sky was empty and clear, or they were inside, or he was in an empty void. But still, black drops on the ground.

They were coming from him. And as soon as he realized that it would be like a faucet turning: a gush, an overflow. Tar coating the sidewalk. Ink on his bedroom wall. The books in the library soaked and melting. He never woke up until he was fully drowned. Until all light was blotted out, and he had been screaming without sound.

He woke up looking at the white drop ceiling. The nurse was on the phone. She seemed like she had been on the phone for a while. He listened to the one-sided conversation for a few moments. Seemed like she would remain on the phone for a while. He collected his stuff and left.

When he checked his phone in the hall it was later than he thought. School was already over, he was minutes away from being late for his shift. No texts, no missed calls. He stowed his phone in his bag. Work, and then the meeting about crownsguard training… if he was even invited to that anymore.

[F][F][X][V]

Sana Collis was sixteen the first time she saw a dead body. A guy collapsed in her apartment building. He was dead when she found him in the stairwell. He remained dead while she called the paramedics, and continued to remain dead while they carted him away.

The experience shrank and shrank until it was one bad memory, something she thought about during a therapy session but didn’t seem worth bringing up. Everyone experiences little bits of ugliness, she figured. Little things that dig into you and burrow in the skin.

She was on her phone when she saw the kid. And boy did he look dead. Ash-white skin, lips parted, face slack, collapsed into the bench like someone had melted him in place. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye, stopped, and glanced back behind her, then to the other side of the street. She scrutinized the body for some sign of breathing, but the wind was up, his clothes were fluttering, it was impossible to tell.

She swiped her phone open again and then closed it. She looked around. The bell on a storefront jingled and a man stepped outside in an apron with a phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, he’s been loitering outside my store for hours. Looks like a niff. I don’t want him around.”

Sana darted forward but hesitated. The boy’s hair moved--displaced by his breathing, she was all but certain. She turned to the shopkeeper, who had his arms folded and was looking on disparagingly. And she opened her mouth to say something, but sirens wailed in the distance, so she just bent forward and gave the kid’s shoulder a shake. Nothing. But he felt alive.

She’d never touched a dead body and this would be one of those things, if he was dead, one of those things that stabs in and hooks under the flesh and stays to live. 

“Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?” she tried. His face crumpled. He let out a soft whine. The relief that flooded through her almost made her dizzy. Her limbs had gone cold with terror. 

He didn’t wake up for the cops, who checked him over and called an ambulance. One of them asked Sana if she knew him. She shook her head no. 

“We got him from here,” one of them said. And then she just felt in the way. She was late anyways. 

[F][F][X][V]

Prompto had never woken up in a hospital before. 2/10, if he had to assign a number value. The staff were pretty nice. He only had to beg a little to get a nurse to take out his IV, and then it was just a matter of finding his stuff and putting his jacket back on. Everyone in the E.R. is generally seriously busy. Prompto’s heart beat in his ears loud enough that he tasted metal, but walking with enough confidence apparently really does get you out of anywhere.

He charged his phone in a hallway by the waiting room for a few minutes and it came back to life. Three missed calls, all from Ignis, and a few texts from Noct. He read only the most recent.

PRINCE OBNOCTIS: where are u dude???

[F][F][X][V]

Noctis paced back down the hall twice before Ignis cleared his throat, pointedly. 

“The abuse you’re doing to the floor isn’t productive in any way.”

Noct almost rolled his eyes but stopped himself at the last second. He checked his phone again instead. Still no message. So first Prom ditched him in the middle of a study session, seemingly for no reason. Now he just decided not to show. Noctis couldn’t even find him after chem. He’d been… a little pissed, admittedly, and avoided Prompto because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to deck him or not.

At the present, he just felt like his guts were wrapped in twine. And then his phone buzzed in his hand.

RARELY PROMPT(O): srry! Im omw

He read the text two times over, snapped his screen off, turned it on again and read the text a third time. When he looked up Ignis had an eyebrow just slightly elevated.

“He says he’s coming.”

“I hope you know that--”

“Can you just cut it for-for a second, Iggy? I know, okay?” Not showing a commitment worthy of the crownsguard. Some shit like that was about to come spilling out of Ignis’ mouth and Noctis wasn’t in any way prepared to deal with it. If he was literally any other dude his friendship wouldn’t come with a “meet this bar or else.” He wouldn’t need his best friend trained in combat just so they could keep hanging out together. But Prompto was all about it. He was totally excited. Or he had been.

Gladio stepped out of the office, looking as large and as pissed as he had when Noct left.

“Well?”

“He says he’s on his way,” Noctis said. He pocketed his phone. Gladio huffed and walked back into the office. It was a few minutes before they heard footsteps on the stairs. Prompto broke through the door like he was about to inform them about a bomb in the building, but then he came to a halt and just stood there clearly unable to catch his breath. Noctis could almost hear some shit Gladio would say. Not fit enough for the crownsguard. Inexplicably, he wanted to cry. No, it was explicable. He was pissed. He was pissed at Ignis and pissed and Gladio and pissed at Prompto more than he ever had been.

Ignis shattered the moment like glass on paving stone.

“Is that a hospital bracelet?” he said, and indicated Prompto’s wrist. Noct felt his spit go sour. Prompto  _ laughed _ . 

“Oh, haha. It was like, a misunderstanding. But I’m here! Ready to go.”

“You’re late, actually.” Gladio was leaning in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “More than late.”

“I know. I’m really sorry, work was...I just got caught up,” Prompto said.  _ Whatever _ , Noct thought. He was here. He  _ cared _ . It was easy enough to shove out all the garbage that had been stacking up, the shit that kept him from talking to anyone at school until one particular loud-mouthed blond.

“Man, I’m glad you showed,” he said, cracking a grin. Prompto’s whole face lit up. It was like Noctis had hit the “smile now” button. Prom took a step forward and then he dropped. It wasn’t like he fainted, he just… seemed to lose the ability to remain standing. He sat down hard and then he slumped over onto his side with a startled: “oh.”

“Prom?” Noct’s voice came out hilariously high. He was on his knees in an instant, but he didn’t know where to touch. He just said Prom’s name again, feeling like an idiot. But Prompto was awake, he was looking at Noctis. He looked mortified. “Are you okay?” Noctis felt like his lungs were being compressed into an increasingly small space.

“Yeah, dude, I’m f-fine.”

He was cold. Noctis pressed a hand to his cheek and he was like pavement on a spring day. 

“If you were fine you’d be able to stand.” That was Gladio, hovering. He took one of Prompto’s wrists and shushed Noctis before he could even open his mouth. Noctis didn’t miss how Prompto flinched at Gladio’s touch. He wished he missed it.

“I  _ can _ stand, I’m choosing not to,” Prompto said. Gladio sat back on his haunches.

“Let’s see that then.”

“Gladio--that’s hardly,” Ignis started, but Gladio held up a hand. Prompto pushed himself into almost a sitting position and then gave a tiny whimper.

“Shit.” Prompto said it under his breath, but Noct could swear it echoed through the hallway. It hit the stained-glass and bounced back to smack him in the face. “I can, I just need a minute.”

Gladio gave Noctis a look that felt a lot like he was about to be told off for not taking better care of a puppy. Which was  _ bullshit _ in the extreme because he wasn’t… he had nothing to do with whatever was going on with Prompto. But then again. He hadn’t exactly been accommodating lately. Or even attentive. 

It was Ignis who crouched down, gently shifted Noct aside, gently picked up Prompto’s wrist and turned the bracelet to read it. He typed a number into his phone and then stood and walked a few paces away.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Noctis said. He realized for the first time that the bracelet was clipped wildly small and even still loose on Prom’s wrist. The bags under his eyes were dark enough to be bruises.

He tried to tune into Ignis’ conversation but he was unable to focus on anything besides Prom’s shallow breathing.

“M’fine. Just hurts,” Prompto said softly.

“What hurts?” Gladio asked. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

“Uh.” Prompto seemed reluctant to finish that thought. 

“What were you doing at the hospital?” Noct asked.

“Some guy called the cops on me for loitering. Which I wasn’t even doing. I was just tired after work and I fell asleep for maybe a second.”

“How does that add up to hospital?” Gladio said, but Ignis was back, sliding his phone away and stripping off his jacket to fold into a pillow for Prom’s head. Noctis did not miss the hiss of pain when Ignis helped lift his head. Just like he didn’t miss the minute tremors in Prom’s hands, the way he was trying to keep his teeth from clicking together.

“Medics on their way,” Ignis said, clearly more for the benefit of Noct and Gladio. He tapped Prompto’s cheek gently before addressing him. “Could I have access to your phone so I can contact your parents?”

“No,” Prompto mumbled, and then blinked hard like he’d just realized what he’d said. “I mean--they’re not at--not in Insomnia. And also they usually don’t answer their phones.”

Ignis and Gladio exchanged a look. No one spoke for a minute or so.

“Can I--” Prompto’s mouth snapped shut.

“What? Can you what?” Noctis said, and wow, he’d never heard his voice sound like that. He didn’t know he could make that tone.

“Can I sleep or do you um, need me right now?”

Noctis couldn’t put words together. He wasn’t even in the hallway. He mentally checked the fuck out. So it was Ignis who put a hand on Prompto’s head and told him very gently that he could rest but the medics would probably wake him up.

“Oh. Okay,” Prompto said, and when his eyes slipped shut Noctis punched Gladio in the arm and indicated his wrist.

“He’s not dead dude,” Gladio whispered. Noctis had to get up. It was just as well because in another minute the medics came in with their eyes trained on the prince, and Ignis idly directed them to Prompto.

Noct carried himself to the end of the hall and pressed his face to a blank space on the stone wall. It felt like he was breathing through a straw. When Gladio laid a hand on his shoulder, he was astonished he didn’t crumble.

“Hey. Iggy’s going with him to the med wing. Come on.”

He let Gladio lead him down the hall.

Getting debriefed by the citadel medical staff was probably the least pleasant thing that happened to Noct all week. Maybe month. Maybe year.

“He definitely has a concussion. Not a serious one. What’s a concern for us, really, is how dehydrated and malnourished he seems to be.

That was the first volley. The second came when Ignis called. He’d driven out to pick up some things from Prompto’s place.

“I just had an enlightening conversation with Prompto’s landlord. Put Gladio on,” he said. Nothing makes you feel like a bedwetter like the “adults” deciding you’re not mature enough to be included in the conversation, but the alternative to the discussion was to pull rank on the doctor and get in to see Prom, so he handed the phone over readily.

He was still in the middle of talking the doctor into it when Gladio’s fist hit the wall. Noctis looked back to see him shaking plaster off his knuckles.

“Yeah. No. I punched the wall. Well, obviously.” There was a pause. “Talk to you then.” Gladio hung Noct’s phone up so hard he was certain if it wasn’t state-of-the-art the screen would have cracked.

He itched so badly to chew his fingernails.

“Can I have my phone back?” Noct almost expected to get it thrown at him. Instead Gladio crossed the hall, dropped the device into Noct’s waiting hands and drew himself up to full height, The doctor just stepped aside. Being a prince is bullshit. It’s not even good for pulling rank.

Gladio crossed the room and sat down beside Prompto’s bed. He folded one leg over the other and fixed his eyes on an empty spot on the wall. Noctis fumbled his phone out and texted Ignis to ask what was up, but he didn’t expect a response.

And he didn’t get one. They told him later, in a separate room. Like mom and dad explaining the divorce, and part of him was burning with fury that they would treat him like such a child, but it turned out to be a conversation he really fucking needed to be sitting down for.

“That’s almost a month. Where was he sleeping?” Noctis said. Ignis pursed his lips the way he did when something made him seriously fucking angry.

“That’s anyone’s guess. Possibly a shelter. Possibly not.”

There was a lot unsaid in that “not.” Noctis aligned his spine into perfect royal posture. Royal posture can get you through a lot. And it helps with chronic back pain.

Aside from that conversation and occasional bathroom breaks, Gladio didn’t leave Prom’s room. He stationed himself and waited for Prompto to wake up.

But he was out of the room when Prompto did wake up. It was just Noctis sitting in the good chair and tapping out a rhythm game on his phone. Prompto woke up crying, but as soon as his eyes were open he pressed a hand to his mouth and stifled the sob.

Noct dropped his phone.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he said, feeling both stupid and like he was talking to an injured bird. It was a minute or so before Prompto was composed enough to talk.

“This seems like it bodes ill for my prospects as a crownsguard,” he said. And he was able to half-crack a smile, which just made Noct’s face hurt.

“Shut the fuck up man,” he said. Prompto snorted. “You were homeless? Where were you sleeping? Why didn’t you--say something! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno. Can I have some water, if you’re going to grill me?” Prompto was picking at the blankets. Noctis marched across the room to the sink, grabbed a cup and poured some water. He wanted to put it down on the tray hard but stopped himself at the last second. Prompto’s waiting hands were still trembling.

“I was just sleeping in the park by my house. It’s a safe neighbourhood.”

“That’s not--even--at all fine.” Words came back on themselves so Noct snapped his mouth shut and resolved to just be horrified and furious.

“I didn’t tell you because, I dunno. I didn’t want you to know I’m a fuck-up. I didn’t want you to know I’m so bad at managing money I couldn’t pay the rent. I didn’t want you to know my parents probably don’t give a shit if I live or die.”

Noct found Prompto’s fingers. He needed them. He needed to hold onto him.

“What the fuck man?”

“I’m supposed to bring that up during a game sesh? Like oh, nice combo, my parents don’t return my calls.”

“Yes! I mean, no but…” Noct leaned in. He had to keep pulling closer until he could touch their foreheads together. Prompto was crying. He was quiet about it, but he was crying, so Noct stayed close in like that, and wrapped his arms around him as best he could with their awkward position. Prom was still for a long time, like he was waiting for a soap-bubble to pop. Then his hands found Noct’s shirt, and he was holding on.

Noctis felt about qualified to fix old people’s cell phones and light injuries on days when potion making really clicked. He wasn’t even close to qualified to fix this.

He did, however, have a rent-controlled apartment. And some measure of influence over the King, who in turn had an amount of influence over the department of child services.

He also had influence over his shield and advisor, but he didn’t need either of those. Gladio carried Prom up from the parking garage to the apartment on his own initiative and despite Prom’s many protestations.

It really did feel like bringing home a broken bird, because he was both surprised to be getting away with it and filled with incredible worry. And also because Prompto mostly just slept, especially on the first night and through the next day. 

Besides being trained in combat and pretty ok at video games, Noctis was confident in his skill at skateboarding (sometimes) and making Prompto smile. He made it a little challenge, a game with himself. He won while Ignis was making tea and Prompto was sitting up staring into space. The bad part was that he won by overbalancing and falling off the back of the couch. The good part was that he got a laugh too, which was plus ten bonus points.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twit](https://twitter.com/saltslimes?lang=en) [if ur nasty (AND +18)]
> 
> [tumblr](saltslimes.tumblr.com) [if you want to hear me whining about my cold apartment]
> 
> this was betaed by the lovely gnine but as usual I rushed her a lot. _Also_ the X key on my keyboard is slightly broken because I spilled cider on it one time so if there's an X missing there's your reason.


End file.
